


Pyrrhic Victory

by darkavengerz (darkavenger)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Church and Tucker beat Grif and Simmons, but at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pyrrhic Victory

**Author's Note:**

> This fic includes some elements of sexual coercion. It's nothing more than a kiss, but if that would make anyone uncomfortable please do not read.

"Are they still out there?"

"Why don't  _you_  look?"

"Because I'm not at the right angle to see if they're still there! Now just check, asshole!"

"Fine, but if I die, you're going to have to look after my sister," Grif grumbles.

"Then don't die," Simmons hisses.

Grif sighs, then warily sticks his head out just over the edge of the pit he and Simmons are sheltering in. A rifle shell whistles past his face and he squeaks undignifiedly before hitting the floor.

"I guess they're still out there," Simmons says.

"You think?!" 

"What are we going to do?" Simmons asks, ignoring Grif's indignation, his voice going high and panicky. 

"What the hell are you asking me for? You're the one who actually pays attention when Sarge runs those dumb training sims!" Grif snaps in response. The ground shudders under the impact of the continuous fire, dirt dislodging from the crumbling wall of dirt and raining down on their helmets. 

"Yes, but this is different!" Simmons replies, an edge of hysteria in his voice, "this time we could actually  _die!_  And I always do better second time round on those things."

"Well tough shit," Grif shoots back, "we're not going to get a second go, so how about you just do this right the first time!"

"Okay, okay!" Simmons snaps. His hands are shaking as he thinks. "Uh, fine. How about we throw a grenade over the top and in their direction. Maybe we could run away while they're distracted."

"I don't like that plan," Grif objects, "it involves running and me probably dying."

"I know you're lazy but this is literally life or death" Simmons snaps, "You can run. Besides, do you have any better ideas?"

"No..." Grif admits reluctantly, "aw fuck it. Fine. Let's do it."

"Okay," Simmons says. There's a pause, a silence broken only by the sound of gunfire. 

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Grif asks impatiently, "throw the damn grenade then!"

"Me?" Simmons' voice does the thing where it sounds like a parrot squawking indignantly. "I don't have any grenades! I used them up earlier when we were running away from these assholes!"

"Well, fat lot of good that did," Grif says sarcastically, "good job killing them, Simmons."

Simmons splutters, "Oh, like you did any better!" Before Grif can argue, Simmons adds hastily, "Stop this! We don't have time. Just use one of yours."

"Uh," Grif says awkwardly.

"You forgot to pack them didn't you," Simmons says flatly. 

Grif shrugs wordlessly. 

"Every freaking time," Simmons continues, shaking his head in disgust. "I tell you every single time not to forget to pack them, and you always just roll your eyes and say you already have and you're always lying!"

"You should stop sounding so surprised then!" 

 

"Dude," Tucker yells over the sound of their guns, "we need to cease fire, I'm almost out of ammo."

"Yeah," Church admits, lowering his gun, "me too. I guess this is kind of a waste. It's just, shooting at these losers is  _so fun._  Did you see their faces?" he smiles fondly, recalling the way the two Reds had panicked when he and Tucker had run into them. 

Tucker laughs. "It was pretty funny," he admits, "it's nice to not be the ones getting our arses kicked."

"Yeah," Church agrees with a content sigh. "So what do you want to do with them anyway. We could... kill them, I guess. I mean, that is what we're meant to be doing."

"Yeah," Tucker says. An uncomfortable silence follows as they contemplate mowing down two guys who they sort of know in cold blood. "Or we could just let them go," Tucker offers, sounding a little uncertain.

"Yeah!" Church says a little too quickly, feeling relieved. "Well, I mean, we can't just let them go, but we could hold them hostage."

Tucker tilts his head. "What would we exchange them for?" he asks dubiously, "the Warthog?"

"The same Warthog that almost killed their team leader?" Church snorts cynically, "No thanks. We already have Caboose for that." 

"Well then, what?" Tucker asks, "It's not like they've got anything good. They've got like, sand and the same shitty rations we've got."

"We could always make them do something humiliating? Like, say how they're lame and stuff" Church suggests, "That's always good for a laugh."

"Wow," Tucker says, "is that the best you can come up with? Really? Making them admit they're lame?"

"Oh, shut up, Tucker," Church says, rolling his eyes. "I don't hear you suggesting anything better."

"I'm just saying," Tucker says with a shrug, "that's kind of tame."

"Hey! Assholes," a voice calls, interrupting their muttered debate, "we're trying to surrender here!"

Tucker and Church turn, raising their weapons automatically to level them at the Red soldiers poking their heads over the ledge. 

"Just give us a minute, will you?" Tucker yells back, "We're discussing terms!"

"Oh yeah?" The maroon one speaks this time, sounding more nervous than the orange one, "What exactly are you going to make us do?" he gulps audibly, in fearful expectation.

Tucker shrugs, glancing at Church, deciding to go with his idea in lieu of anything better, "How about you just -"

"You have to make out," Church interrupts, "with each other!"

_"What?!"_  Grif, Simmons and Tucker all ask in unison. 

"Seriously?" Tucker hisses disbelievingly, turning on Church, "make out? What the fuck are you on, man? Why the hell would you want them to do that?"

"Uh, to humiliate them?" Church replies, " _d'uh_. You're the one who said I was thinking too small."

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean you should ask them for some kind of freaky sex-show, Church!" Tucker snaps, voice rising.

"Oh, come on," Church protests, rolling his eyes. "I know it's probably the furthest you've ever got, but making out isn't exactly what I'd call a 'freaky sex-show' Tucker."

"Yeah, well, it's still just weird, dude," Tucker replies, shaking his head. "Like, it's not two hot girls making out. It's two average looking guys. That's kinda gay."

"What?!" Church splutters, indignant and suddenly a little hot-faced. "No it is not! God, Tucker! It's meant to be _humiliating_  not hot. Besides, they're the ones making out!"

"Yeah," Tucker says pointedly, "because you told them to. Weird, dude. I'm telling you."

"Fine," Church grumbles, turning back towards the Reds, "I'll tell them to admit they suck instead."

"Too late," Tucker says, but not before Church gets an eyeful.

"Oh. Wow..." Church blinks, oddly hypnotised by the sight of the two Red team mates sucking face. "Uh. That's kind of intense. They really went for it huh?"

"Yeah," Tucker says, shaking his head. "Congratulations, Church. You've succeeded in facilitating an enemy romance. A plus leadership there, dude."

"Wow, yeah, this really backfired," Church admits, wincing as Grif tugs wildly at Simmons' hair, angling his head to deepen the kiss. "I see what you meant about this being kinda gay."

" _Really_  gay," Tucker says. 

"When do you think they're going to stop?" Church asks, horribly fascinated. 

"Those two?" Tucker shrugs. "Fuck knows. The UST between them has been building for years, so..."

"Really?" Church asks, surprised. Tucker gives him a look, which Church can tell even through his visor is heavy on the sarcasm. "Aw man. But Simmons is such a fucking nerd."

"Yeah, well," Tucker says, watching as Simmons moans into Grif's mouth loudly and shamelessly, "clearly Grif likes that."

"Oh for fuck's sake...." Church clears his throat loudly. Neither Grif nor Simmons seem to notice or care. He does so again, more pointedly. "Okay! That's enough! You can both leave. Please. Now."

Grif and Simmons disentangle, Simmons sheepishly wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

"Really?" Simmons asks earnestly, "You sure you've humiliated us enough? I mean, I'm not sure. I think we could stand a little more humiliation, what do you think Grif?"

Grif shrugs, "I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Ugh," Church shudders, slightly disgusted at what he's wrought. "It's fine. Just... go."

"Well, okay," Simmons says, with a shrug. 

"If you're sure," Grif adds with a sly grin.

"I'm sure!"

The two Reds look at each other and shrug, before turning to go.

"Wow," Church says, shaking his head as he watches them leave, "those two, huh? Who'd have seen that coming?"

"Literally everyone," Tucker says, rolling his eyes with deep feeling, "their mutual attraction is visible from outer space."

"Wow," Church blinks, wondering if the sight of Grif's tongue down Simmons' throat is going to be permanently burnt onto his retinas, "today sucked."

"Yeah," Tucker agrees, turning back towards Blue base, "worst victory ever."


End file.
